


Kim Namjoon and the Bangtan High School Host Club

by RB (BlueflowersandWings)



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Ouran High School Host Club Fusion, Attempt at Humor, Background Relationships, Boys In Love, CAN BE READ EVEN WITHOUT SEEING THE ANIME, Chaos, Comedy, Don't copy to another site, Eventual Romance, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Slow Romance, TRUST ME NAMJOON IS JUST AS CONFUSED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueflowersandWings/pseuds/RB
Summary: Kim Namjoon turned around, to see four pairs of eyes staring at him incredulously."What?" he asked, barely reigning in his frustration. This school was absoluteshit. "Why're you all looking at me like that?""Wow, he's serious," Taehyung muttered to himself, face blank, body half on the floor, red bandanna falling completely over his left eye. "He's serious, he really doesn't know. In the name of everything Gucci, I never imagined I'd live to see this day."Or,Bangtan High School of Music and Other Such Thingsis a super-massive, super-elite school that only caters to the ultra-rich segments of society, and enrolling in with a rare scholarship, Kim Namjoon is a middle-class genius only one of his kind around here. Due to some accidental (unfortunate) circumstances, he falls prey to the shenanigans of the Host club, who are loved by every student in the school, and who Namjoon personally thinks are a bunch of literal, humanely impossibleshits.(Or, an Ouran High School X BTS AU, feat. the Chaotic Twins VMin, the unfairly attractive President Kim Seokjin, and Kim Namjoon who repeatedly finds himself a victim to pure, pureinsanity. Read, laugh, and enjoy.)
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	1. The Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I honestly have too many multi-chaps going at the moment, but Ouran High School X BTS was something i had always wanted to try. What's more, they have seven members, too! I hope this story will make sense, even to those who know nothing about the anime- I tried my best! 
> 
> Happy reading! Let's meet downstairs! :))

  


Soft piano music echoes through the club room, Yoongi's pale fingers skilfully running over the keys. A flock of snow-feathered doves flew beyond the window, chirruping loudly. The ornate clock on the mantelpiece showed only fifteen minutes remained until club activities started, a heavy peace permeating thickly over the spacious room and its occupants.

Then, very suddenly: 

"UH HYUNGS, I THINK THERE'S A FIRE IN THE WINE CABINET. WHAT DO WE DO?"

Followed immediately by a : 

"NO DAMN TAE DON'T SHOUT- Okay, nothing to be panicked about, but does anyone have an extra rose or something?"

A sharp sound succeeded this, like a person smacking someone hard on the head.

Abruptly, Yoongi's fingers stilled, piano notes dissipating noiselessly in the air. At one corner of the room, Jungguk looked up from his broom and towards the liquor cabinet with wide-eyed concern, as a series of wild screams and animal noises came floating from that place. Hoseok, with his flaming red hair and favourite accounts-book in hand, stopped in the process of calculating whatever expenses they had suffered or something to calmly shout above the chaos:

"Heyyyy, couldn't you guys wait until our club president actually arrived on the crime scene? I swear, if any of those wines are harmed in any way-"

" _You'll make them pay for it, with interest._ Yes, everyone knows," Yoongi sighed, rolling his eyes and beginning to play again, the piano rising like a serene siren above the hell-horns of primal chaos. "Forgive me if I'm cynical, but I'm sure Jin-hyung might not be much help either. He has a penchant for screwing things up more than the Twins do on a daily basis."

Quietly, Jungguk giggles, hiding his nose but bunny teeth on cute display. From the liquor cabinet that could be safely marked off as a hazard zone (there was even a thin stream of smoke bellowing out; just what exactly were those two doing?), a shrill, high-pitched voice yelled: "Taetae and me are _not_ twins! Get your facts straight, Yoongi-hyung!"

"Wow, _'hyung'_ huh? That's concerning." A finger on his chin, Hoseok hummed thoughtfully and announced, "Okay, dire times call for extra-dire measures. Kim Namjoon, my friend, my sunshine, where in the small, beautiful world are you?"

( _"You're enough sunshine for this club already, Hobi,"_ Yoongi remarked, scrunching his face. _"Besides, that poor guy probably got blinded by it the first time you both had a proper, accounts-free conversation."_ )

At another, strangely separated corner of the club room, a new voice spluttered very very quietly, as if suddenly caught hiding.

( _"Well, I just wanted to be friends,"_ Hoseok pouted, defending himself. _"Club members are friends, Yoongi-hyung. It's really unfortunate that Namjoon- oh, there he is!"_ )

Excitedly, he stopped mid-way, waving his notebook over his head. "There you are!" he shouted, smiling brightly. "Please step out of your cave and help the twins out of the cabinet, will you? We cannot have our only club room burning down to ashes, and you're our best hope."

( _"The only hope, you mean,"_ Yoongi smirked, as Jungguk giggled again.)

From the depths of the cabinet, the former voice shouted: "Again, Hobi-hyung, Taetae and me are _not twins_ -"

"Sorry, sorry. Can't blame me for being in-character."

The new voice on the separate corner of the room sighed very, very quietly. Finally, squaring his shoulders and pushing the non-existent glasses up his nose, the man emerged out (from his _cave_ , according to Hoseok) with the combined willpower of all the world-weary martyrs of every high school in the world.

Kim Namjoon was not, _definitely_ not ready for this. He wasn't ready for shit. He had never been ready for the Host club of Bangtan High (would never be, by the look of things), and to face the non-identical Twins plus an explosive liquor cabinet with God knows what sort of witchcraft being practised down there? Namjoon was _really_ not ready; but dire times call for extra-dire measures, and he'd even accept death if that got his tragic debt struck off from the columns of Hoseok's cursed accounts-book.

He'd celebrate the day when that happened. But first, he had to _survive_.

"Namjoonie, best of luck," Yoongi drawled as he walked past, sarcasm complimenting his piano. "Do drag Taehyung out by the ears if you catch him, okay? That guy needs to know how harsh middle-class punishments can really be."

"If you need any help, call me," Jungguk waved at him with his broom, smiling widely. Seriously, that boy was too cute for his own good. "I can carry both of them out if you want me to."

Okay, he was cute. But he was probably strong enough to hand Namjoon's ass back to him. Or everybody else's in the club, period.

"See that the wines are not disturbed, okay?" Hoseok called out, re-absorbed in his accounts again. "I swear, I'm never bringing the French Limited Collection back here again. Too dangerous."

For the umpteenth time, Namjoon sighed. For the umpteenth time, he also reflected back as to how and why in the world he had ever thought joining the Host Club could be a good, safe idea. Flattening his collars, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles, he took in a deep breath and whispered, "Okay, let's do this."

From deep inside the cabinet, someone traitorously whispered: "Hey, think they'll send in Joonie-hyung again? What do you say we leave the fire to him?"

"That's not a bad idea," a second voice whispered, dangerously innocent. "He must've had enough experience with fires. But honestly, I've been reading this book, and there's something called a _moral compass thingy_ , you know? It says we should never leave an innocent in trouble, even though we might've started the original trouble."

"Hmm.. sounds weird." A strange noise followed, like someone trying hard to blow their nose but failing. "Middle-class people are definitely strange. But do you think Namjoon-hyung classifies as an _'innocent'_ , Chim?"

"Dunno. Maybe we should ask him when he's here."

Quietly, Namjoon sighed. Weariness and Human Wisdom dawned on people upon adulthood, but he'd gotten them years earlier, courtesy to high school. Everybody knew Seokjin-hyung only managed to screw things more during _Incidents_ (debacles where the Twins were exclusively involved), but somehow, Namjoon wanted him to arrive as soon as possible. He was too weak to handle those two alone.

Maybe he should step on his pride and finally accept Jungguk's offer. Well, one of these days.

With only three minutes remaining till the commencement of club activities (and with Namjoon sighing heavily and rethinking each of his past life choices), a regular day begins in the Bangtan High School Host Club.

  


**-**

  


[Two Months Ago]

**1) Kim Namjoon: The Scholarship Student (** a.k.a **The One who Breaks Everything, Literally and Metaphorically)**

  


The lunch bell echoed loudly throughout campus. A flock of red-eyed, snow-feathered doves flew away beyond the large, ceiling-high windows. In the heart of the building that was too huge to be called a school, a lonely student wandered aimlessly through the maze of corridors, looking for a quiet place to study, tripping and glancing and definitely _not_ lost.

Yet.

"Shit, I'm lost."

Kim Namjoon sighed; pushed up the glasses on his nose, glanced around desperately for a familiar turn or staircase. There was nothing, of course, absolutely _nothing_ ; a fact which leads him to believe that he should not- for the seven _millionth_ time- attempt to scour for directions all by himself. Slumped shoulders, ruffled hair and a crumpled uniform outlined his tragic transformation from a genius middle-class student to a lost, despairing man with apparently zero sense of direction. Heaving a defeated sigh, he reflects back to how he had ended up lost inside his own school, and why he had decided to enrol here in the first place. Only a month ago, he had been up on his toes, ready to annihilate every entrance exam dished out to him; contrasting which now, he just wanted to have a _conversation_ with (read: restore the common sense of) those officials who had actually declared this place as a proper high school institution.

(If he didn't find a way out of this maze in the next five seconds, Namjoon swore was going to break something. _Willingly._ )

Objectively speaking, it was only natural for him to get lost around here. _Bangtan High School of Music and Other Such Things_ (no, he wasn't kidding, that _was_ the school's official name) was pretty famous for being an elite, architecturally massive and top-class institution that usually catered to the ultra-rich segments of society; and a normal, middle-class, scholarship student (like him) was almost non-existent within these varnished, hallowed halls. It isn't Namjoon's fault he sticks out almost everywhere he goes; but Bangtan High had this ridiculous, larger-than-life reputation of providing world-class education within the entire country, which had been enough to get him toiling day and night, surviving only on instant ramen and cups of cheap coffee, to crack the Scholarship Exam and finally enrol himself in as a regular student. 

His parents had been proud, of course. He had to move away from Ilsan, get an apartment in Seoul- but for a golden chance in education, it was well worth it.

On his first day, he had been excited. _Really_ excited. Hardly 7% of the population ever got to be in this school, and students who weren't born with a silver spoon in their mouth were unheard of. Only one out of a total three thousand candidates was selected for the scholarship, and he was proud to have gained that recognition. _Really_ proud. 

Flash-forward to seven days later, and Namjoon just wanted to slam his head into a wall, tired and impossibly lost.

Like, _come on_. Exactly how many floors and recreational rooms did one require in a simple _high school_? Rich people were so _dramatic_.

The wind whistled. The doves cooed. On and on he walked, desperate to find a way out of this labyrinth before lunch time ended.

Abruptly, his panicked steps came to a halt.

There was a door in front of him, old and closed as if summoned. A large white placard was pasted over it, the words _Music Room #3_ written in bold, dusty print.

Relived, Namjoon breathed out. Yes, he was lost; but at least he was _somewhere_.

  


(After quickly discovering that the Grand Library was used more for entertainment than quiet studying, he had embarked on the search for a peaceful, secluded place that was appropriate for revision, far away from the loud, chattering crowd. It had led him to being lost, of course; but if his assumption was correct, he'd just found what he was looking for. Namjoon has heard about the abandoned music rooms of the East-wing, the ones which lay empty because the newer ones were big enough to accommodate the entire student body. He had never been here, had never cared to explore- but maybe luck was on his side, because he'd found his perfect recluse just in time for revision.

For convenience purposes, of course, he was going to sketch out a map of the building before coming here again. He didn't trust his senses anymore.)

  


The place was quiet; so much that the faint chatter of students from the Library floated through the air, the silence overpowering. It was the quietest place he had encountered in the school, a cathartic respite from the constant company of dramatic, over-privileged high-schoolers. Namjoon had always been a sucker for ancient pianos and peaceful retreats; so shrugging happily, he adjusted his glasses, turning the handsome door knob and pushing in.

The door opened to the inside. Suddenly, heart seizing coldly in his chest, he knew something was _wrong_.

"Oh, Welcome! Welcome to the-"

 _Smack_. A whole bouquet of red roses hit him squarely in the face.

"What the fuc-"

He reeled back, books dropping to the floor as a high-pitched voice hissed in surprise. When he opened his eyes, the scene that met Namjoon went something like this:

  


**1)** Parted wooden doors opened into a huge, spacious room, whitewashed walls and stunning decor richly adorning the place. At one corner, he could see a large, ceiling-high window; at another, a suspiciously innocent broom closet. Right in front of his vision, there stood a short boy with soft pink hair, adorable cheeks, and tiny, _tiny_ hands, grappling with around seven-eight flower bouquets, gasping dramatically as if he had just committed the gravest of sins.

"Ah, I- I'm so sorry," he scrambled awkwardly, politely bowing, a shower of petals littering his uniform. He almost doubled over in apology, the flowers too heavy compared to his small, light frame. "They told me to throw the _petals_ , but my hand slipped and the whole arrangement just-" he winced, grimacing cutely. "I'm sorry, I didn't really mean to hurt you."

Dumbly, Namjoon nodded. He wasn't really listening, because even though those tiny hands were a wonder of their own, the spectacle inside the room was no less spectacular.

 **2)** Near the centre of the room, a majestic grand piano stood under the limelight, a pale, mint-haired guy sitting on a cushioned seat and sleepily running his fingers over the keys, neat, complex notes gently filling the air. It was a _Music Room_ , alright- and though the sight might've otherwise fascinated Namjoon, there was another young, straw-haired guy with a red bandanna over his brows, face perhaps sculpted by the Gods, holding onto a flower vase like a mic and singing his heart out in the loudest, deepest voice possible (something like _"KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE"_?). Under such disruptive bass, the serenity of the piano was somewhat lost on Namjoon; but what intrigued him more was how the mint-haired pianist could keep his composure even in the middle of such deliberate noise pollution.

(It was a second later that he noticed a shiny, white earplug snuggled in the pianist's ear. _Oh_ , now _that_ made sense.)

 **3)** On another end, rows upon rows of tables and cushions were lined around each other, in the midst of which a guy was busy cleaning the furniture with what could only be identified as a _silk rag_. He looked young, practically a baby; dark, doe-like eyes narrowed in concentration, he carefully dusted away at the wood, cleaning on and on, never looking up from his work.

 **4)** Upon a nearby table which was apparently clean enough, a tall, flame-haired guy (probably a senior) sat with his legs crossed, nose buried into a frayed, grey little notebook. A pen in hand, tongue peeking out in concentration, his fingers ran lightning-fast over the pages, intensely focused, even when the straw-haired guy twirled around his cushion and _screamed_ the lyrics, giving vent to his loud, atrocious singing qualities ( _"MAYBE YOU'RE MY LOVE!")._

__

__

Namjoon stared at the scene, gaping, glasses askew. He was in the _right_ place alright, he just wasn't... alone.

Which was unexpected. 

One thing was certain though. He wasn't going to find a place for revision before the end bell today.

"Hey Tae, stop singing. We have a guest," the boy in front of him turned back and shouted, soft voice piercing through the cacophony of bass. Almost instantly, the guy with straw-coloured hair snapped shut, placing the vase down and glancing towards the door. He blinked, face blank; and by the time the flame-haired guy looked up from his notebook to see why the room suddenly fell silent, the guy had ran over to his pink-haired friend, hand wrapping around his shoulders, a quiet, curious glint playing in his eyes.

He looked Namjoon up and down, with such scrutiny that made him acutely remember standing in a doctor's lab and being X-rayed. After a moment's consideration, the boy slowly went: "Wow, look at his socks."

Instantly Namjoon looked down to his feet, to the old, frayed socks wrapped around them.

"Wow, those are _really_ old," the pink-haired boy chorused, staring down with wide eyes, as if seeing a hole in a sock for the very first time. He probably did. "That's _so_ old-fashioned, are you sure you belong in this school, mister?"

"Yeah, you sure you haven't broken in?" The straw-hair chirruped, eyes wide in misplaced wonder. These guys looked nothing similar, with a _remarkable_ difference in height, but they way they behaved- strangely, uncomfortably, it reminded Namjoon of- "And I haven't seen such glasses outside the pictures in our History books. Not that I _read_ History, mind you, but, you sure you're in the right place, mister?"

At Namjoon's frozen, awkward silence, the pink-haired boy loudly whispered, "Maybe he's an _amnesiac_. Or dumb. He doesn't even remember how to speak."

"Yeah. _Yeah_ ," The straw-hair observed, nodding grimly. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

-of _Twins_.

Namjoon stared. And stared. Was this really happening?

He knew (at least, hoped so) that he was in the right place... He just wasn't sure if these were the right _people_. Or even normal ones.

"Wow, he's _actually_ dumb. D'you think he can substitute in for Kookie when he's sick?"

"Dunno, he doesn't look very bright. Kookie is a smart kid, Tae. And smart kids have _vibes_."

"Oh, like you and me?"

"The only vibe you two give off is of _miscreants_ ," a third, unfamiliar voice cut in, long steps nearing the door, and suddenly both the boys were being dragged behind by the collar, a bright, flame-haired face appearing between their shoulders, glaring darkly at each individual. "Taehyung, Jimin. What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Greeting the guest," both of them chorused, eyes innocent, voices absurdly in-sync. _Wow, they really _were_ twins._

"And does greeting our guests constitute of criticising their clothes and making fun of their apparent appearance?"

"Well no, but," the straw-haired guy, whose name Namjoon caught as _Taehyung_ , awkwardly shifted around his senior's hold, trying in vain to free his collar from the firm iron-grasp. "This guy here," he pointed at Namjoon, who stiffened at the attention, "just _look_ at him, hyung. He doesn't have a proper uniform, his glasses are old, and his socks are _yellow_." He clutched at his chest, glancing at Namjoon's feet as if observing an alien, anomalous monstrosity. "In the name of all things Gucci, have you ever seen someone wear _ripped yellow socks_ on their feet, hyung?"

"You did wear those green seaweed socks last Summer," the guy named Jimin curiously pointed out, tiny hands struggling with his own collar. "If you can call _that_ a sock, then I really don't see any difference. Socks aren't toys Tae, they're not supposed to be weird."

"Those weren't weird, they were _inspired_ ," Taehyung shoots Jimin a glare, voice offended. "Really Chim, fashion is all about creativity. If you can't think out of the box-"

"Creativity exists, but that doesn't mean you can wrap seaweed 'round your feet and call that a sock!"

"Well, excuse _you_ , you know nothing abou-"

"Okay, enough you two," the flame-haired guy sighed, exhale monumental, releasing his grip with such suddenness that both the boys stumbled forward, the bouquets on Jimin's hand tragically dropping to the floor. Shoving his juniors aside, the taller guy stepped forward with long, graceful steps, stopping half a metre in front of Namjoon, greeting him with a humongous, humanely-impossible, mega-watt smile. _Wow, now that was blinding._

"Hi there," he introduced himself, all happy eyes and heart-shaped smiles, stretching a hand out and grasping Namjoon's palm within his, shaking vigorously. "Hi, nice to meet you! My name is Jung Hoseok, Official Vice President of the Bangtan High School Host Club, gladly at your service! You can call me Hobi if you want, we're not very formal around here." Backing a step, he released their handshake, smiling still and shaking his head. "You know, we don't get a lot of male customers, but hey, no judgement! I'm afraid we still haven't opened yet, so if you could just come by after thirty minutes, we would gladly tend to your wishes."

Namjoon blinked. And blinked. Somehow, he wanted to exchange his spectacles for a powerful pair of shades.

"Uh," he went, not really comprehending, and the wide smile on Hoseok's face faltered. 

"Hey, uh," he said, a bit unsure. "You.. you do know where you are, right?" His eyes widened, mouth opening in a gasp. "Oh shit, you haven't _actually_ broken in here, have you? Please tell me you haven't. That'd be a _huge_ problem."

(Behind them, Taehyung and Jimin were still stuck on the same conversation, discussing- _debating_ \- the intricacies of Sock-Art and Creativity with youthful passion and exasperation. On the other side of the room, finally finished with his cleaning, the tall, young-looking boy wiped his brow on his sleeve, quizzically glancing at the commotion near the entryway. The remaining occupant of the room- the mint-haired pianist- went on playing his music, completely- literally- deaf to the world surrounding him.

On any other occasion, such intense focus (or _giving zero fucks_ attitude to the world) might've fascinated Namjoon. As of now though, he only wanted to run.)

"No," he finally found his voice, bending down to pick up his books and nervously fixing his glasses. "I _am_ a student of this school, and I haven't broken in." He straightened, fixing his hair and gathering whatever confidence he could in the face of such an absurd group. Hoseok narrowed his eyes, dubious, opening his mouth to speak again, but Namjoon was done being a pushover. He was done being silent, done being awkward and ignorant; he had _revision_ damnit, so cutting him off before he could begin, Namjoon valiantly clarified, "In answer to your question, I really don't know where I am. I was just looking for a place to study, for revision, but I ended up getting lost, and came here. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but I'll just go now."

He turned around, feet somehow steady, distancing himself from a still-confused Hoseok; but then there was a shuffling noise behind him, something like a scramble, and suddenly two strong pairs of arms were holding him hostage against their strength, _chocking_ his neck quite literally.

"Wait wait wait," Taehyung's deep voice sounded in his ears, loud, as Namjoon coughed and spluttered at the impromptu assault. "So you like, actually go here? Like, you're an actual student of Bangtan High?"

"Also," Jimin's shriller voice joined his friend, small arms unbelievably strong, "You go to this school, but you don't know who _we_ are? Seriously?"

"I'm sorry," Namjoon choked out, voice stuck, frayed collars near the brink of death. "I'm sorry I came, I apologise for the disturbance. I-" he coughed, almost breathless, but then the hold around his neck was released, which he could only guess was Hoseok dragging the devils by _their_ collars, again. "God, fuck- what the- just what the hell do you guys want from me?"

He turned around, indignant, fists clenched by his sides. He turned around to see Hoseok looking very curiously at him, his smiles gone, the tall boy with the silk rag timidly coming forward and joining the fray. 

"What?" he questioned, barely reigning in his frustration. This school was, no doubt, absolute _shit_. "Why're you all looking at me like that?"

"Wow, he's serious," Taehyung was muttering to himself, face blank, body half on the floor, red bandanna falling completely over his left eye. "He's serious, he really doesn't know. In the name of everything Gucci, I never imagined I'd live to see this day."

All four pairs of eyes stared at him with incredulity, and Namjoon stared back, suddenly unsure. "Um," he said, voice hoarse, fists releasing. "Um, if you don't mind- just who _are_ you guys? What're you talking about and, uh, why do you think everyone here should know you?"

"Because we're _famous_ ," Jimin bluntly replied, proceeding to pout petulantly. _God, how adorable_. "We're the _Host Club_ , you know? The best, the richest, most entertaining club in the school, with stellar service and great quality food." He counted off his tiny fingers, hands almost disappearing under his sleeves. "We have excellent activities and a pleasant atmosphere, and- and-" he looked around the group, scratching his nape. "Wait, what else was there again?"

" 'A club unique in idea, fashion and execution, dedicated solely to the entertainment of young, stress-burdened students.' " Hoseok recited, almost on autopilot. When Namjoon stares at him in shock, he just shrugged, casual. "The Dean likes us well, so, he uses some fancy language to describe us to the guests. You know, the investors and all that stuff?"

Namjoon _did_ know, contrary to popular opinion (he didn't have an IQ of 148 just for show), but he was still stuck on _one_ part, something he couldn't get out of his head. "Did you," he stammered, cheeks flushed, "Did you say a- a _Host_ Club? As in, you guys- you guys are-"

"We're Hosts," Hoseok nodded, puffing his chest. "We entertain our clients who come to have a fun time, and tend to their wishes. We act like they're all we care about, get into our respective roles, and enjoy the time we have. I realise why you look so scandalised," Namjoon screwed his face, trying and failing to maintain a poker expression, "But no, we're not _escorts_. We don't encourage any kind of 18+ activities in this room, we just.. toe the line a bit."

"Girls _love_ us," Jimin piped up, as if that was a required detail. "We mostly have female customers, but sometimes we get boys too, like you. But," he tilted his head, lips pouted, "If you don't even know us, I don't suppose you're a customer. Who exactly are you?"

"Yeah, who _are_ you?" Taehyung nodded, trying to pick himself up. The doe-eyed guy bent down immediately, grabbing his arm, heaving the guy off the tiles. "I've never seen you before, and mind you, I know _everyone_ in this school."

 _Of course he does_ , Namjoon wondered. _He still sucks at manners though_. "I," he stammered, at a helpless loss for words (he was making a habit of that, really). "I, um, I'm just a student? I don't know how to introduce myself, I'm nothing special-"

From behind them, the sound of a resounding footfall suddenly echoed in the room. There was a scruff of shoes, an absence of musical notes; following which a soft, gruff voice remarked:

"Okay everyone, move aside. This ruckus is goddamn _distracting_."

Like the perfect imitation of a human Red Sea, the group of four split into two, Taehyung and Jimin pulling each other by the shirts, while Hoseok and the other guy gracefully sidestepped from the entryway. The person who emerged from the middle, with a considerably short stature and sleep-lined eyes, was none other than the mint-haired pianist, staring around the group with his nose scrunched in distaste. Dressed impeccably in the standard school uniform (like all others), he stood over a foot shorter than Namjoon; but the halo of elegance previously surrounding him was lost somewhere, the aura of a tired, world-weary, sleep-deprived existence radiating off him in waves. However fair his skin was, however delicate his features- the way he surmised his surroundings somehow felt highly _intimidating_ , as if if someone dared to cross him, that'd be their last. Ever.

Namjoon gulped. Compared to the goofy, foolhardy members of the club, this person seemed remarkably _terrifying_.

"That's Min Yoongi-hyung," his confusion (and perhaps nervousness) must've showed on Namjoon's face, because Taehyung leaned forward in a loud mock-whisper, uncaring of the guy who was busy wrenching out a white earpiece from his ears. "He's a third year, senior, a pledged member of the Host Club. He looks a bit grumpy at first sight, but don't worry, he's just a soft, sleepy grandpa. He won't eat you, I promise."

"I _know_ he wouldn't," Namjoon spluttered, at the same time Yoongi blandly went, "I could've done the introductions myself, Taehyung." Looking up, Yoongi stared at his face for a beat, gaze curiously narrowed. For a second, he looked like he was done with the world, simply _done_ ; but then easing back, he threw a casual glance around the group, huffing: "You guys may be ignorant, but _I_ think I know him perfectly. This is Kim Namjoon, second year, scholarship student. Joined Bangtan High at the start of this term, rumoured genius, probably doesn't even know his way around the school."

When nothing but a confused silence greeted his words (during which Namjoon considered how exactly a _senior_ could come to know so much about him), Yoongi sighed and said, "Guys, this is the _transfer student_. You know, the one who-"

Before he could finish, the peace in the corridor was instantly shattered, a ball of literal chaos erupting in the room.

"Holy shit- _you_ are the transfer student?!"

" _You_ are the one who joined in without having any background, any money- the pure middle-class genius?!!"

"Wait wait wait, you're the one who _broke through the entrance exams_!!" Hoseok exclaimed, voice shrill, as the doe-eyed guy only gaped at Namjoon, eyes growing five times bigger. "Oh _shit_ , the Dean's been talking 'bout you for days! You're the one who- who-" voice clogging up with emotion, he heaved and said, " _Now_ I get why you don't know about us, you're _new_!"

"And your socks and glasses and uniform make sense, too," Taehyung chirruped, jumping on his toes. " _Especially_ the socks- shit, I should follow your style."

"Wow, you're so _tall_ ," Jimin remarked, wandering uncomfortably close and standing on his tiptoes, easily the tiniest in the club. "You're almost six-feet, I think. Could you let me borrow your height?"

"Maybe we could trade socks, y'know?" Taehyung was saying. "I have these really cool ones that look like seaweed-"

"They don't look like it, they _are_ seaweed," Yoongi sighed, jumping out of the way when Taehyung practically glomped Namjoon down, Jimin joining in the fray, Namjoon's precious books finding their place on the floor again. "Sheesh you two, stop bothering him. You guys are _failures_ at first impressions- this is why rich people always end up being judged." He looked crossly at Hoseok, who only stared at the scene with wonder-struck eyes. "Hoseok, make them stop. They're going to kill the fellow."

"Not before Taehyung gets his socks," Hoseok sighed, smiling fondly, as his juniors almost chased Namjoon around the club room, shirts untucked, ties flying, shoes at a state of mortal danger. "Wow, look at them hyung. I've never seen those two warm up so quickly to a stranger before. This must be a sign."

"A sign of _insanity_ , you mean. If that's their love, I don't want to know how their wrath could be." Yoongi looked back to the youngest member of the club, standing still near the door, precious silk rag hiding a cute bunny smile underneath. "Kookie, you're not going to join them? I know you like that guy, too."

 _Kookie_ slightly blushed, eyes shy, head shaking imperceptibly. 

"Well, whatever. I'm going to sleep, wake me up when Jin-hyung arrives."

Deeper in the room, a very distraught, very confused, very exhausted Namjoon ran in circles around the furniture, running and tripping and shouting something unintelligent like _What do you want?_ and _Please leave me alone_ and _Forgive me, these are the only socks I have_. For six straight days, after intense observation and first-hand experiences, Namjoon had came to the conclusion that rich people were dramatic. On the seventh, he was realising they were completely _crazy_. On and on he ran, lungs bursting, legs protesting, until those Devils' hands didn't seem very far, his surroundings blurring into one entirely.

Suddenly, he tripped. He didn't know on what, he didn't know why, he just did. And while he fell headfirst onto the floor, in slow motion, he heard the steps behind coming to an abrupt halt, a new pair of footsteps on the door, and a young, shy voice suddenly bursting forth, exclaiming something like _Oh holy shit._

_Crash._

Namjoon did fall, yes. Only, he wasn't alone.

The last remnants of an intricate, polished flower vase lay shattered over the tiles beside him.

"Oh my God, what's this? What the hell's happening here?"

Namjoon painstakingly looked up, neck craning. Yoongi was gaping at him from one corner, body still, while the quiet, young kid was rapid-firing a slew of curses at the situation Namjoon didn't even know existed. Jimin and Taehyung seemed to have frozen behind him, holding their breath, a deathly chill engulfing the room. He suddenly noticed Hoseok becoming strangely silent, his smiles vanishing; but a hurried pair of steps quickly blocked his view, bending down, lifting his face, and _Holy shit_ , if _that_ wasn't an angel, he didn't know what _was_ -

"Hey, you okay?" the newcomer, with furrowed brows and concerned eyes, asked gently, and Namjoon knew he was gaping, but, _Wow_. Just wow. Tall, fair, short blonde hair styled messily, complimenting an impossibly beautiful face and shoulders that stretched on for miles. The guy (also probably a senior) stared down at him in confusion, uselessly glancing around the room. "Who are you? Or better yet, what are you _doing_?"

"We did nothing," Jimin automatically piped up, inviting a dubious stare from the guy. "No seriously Jin-hyung, we were just running, and he _fell_."

The blonde guy glared at him, like he saw right through the excuse. "And," he testily countered, " _Why_ were we running?"

"He didn't fall, he _tripped_ ," Taehyung delicately added, and Namjoon was honestly coming to hate those two. "The specifics of our run doesn't matter, because at the end he tripped over his own feet. And did that." Pointing at the mess around them, he cursed under his breath, muttering, "Damn, and I was _this_ close, too. An inch further, and I'd have gotten them."

"Gotten what?"

"His socks," Taehyung replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

The blonde guy stared at him with arched brows, mouth gaping (and how, Namjoon wondered, could he be _so_ good-looking?), proceeding to sigh heavily and shake his head in acceptance. His shoulders drooped as he stared at Namjoon and the broken pieces of the vase, alternatively. "So, I don't know what happened here," he conversationally said, and was it weird that Namjoon found his voice great as well? "but I hope you're okay. Please tell me you didn't break a bone or something, because that would be really problematic-"

"Um, Seokjin-hyung," Yoongi interrupted him, a nervous tremor in his voice. "I, uh, I don't think that's the biggest problem in the room."

"What?" Seokjin turned, tilting his head. "Yoongi, what're you-"

" _Hoseok hyung_ ," the doe-eyed guy breathlessly interjected, antsy and vibrating on the spot, bunny teeth biting hard on his bottom lip. Belatedly, Namjoon realised that was the first time he had heard him speak; but when he turned to look at the flame-haired senior beside him, he froze, heart stopping in his chest.

The Hoseok he knew was nowhere to be found.

Almost like flipping a switch, instead of those cheerful brown heart-eyes, his pupils were flashing, lashes hooded dangerously. A grim line replaced his contagious smile, face a pallid colour, jaw clenched into stone. His hands were occupied again, pen running over his notebook, lips muttering something too low and too fast to be heard. Above him, the blonde guy- Seokjin?- gulped hard, Adam's Apple bobbing, and however attractive though it was, Namjoon couldn't concentrate. Something was wrong, wrong beyond his imagination.

" _Kim Namjoon,_ " Namjoon stiffened when Hoseok spoke, voice cold and detached and strangely reverberating. "You came into this club thirty minutes early, disrupted the usual preparation time for the Hosts, _and_ broke a treasured Italian flower vase made only _one_ of its kind in the entire world. You barraged into the club with doubtful intentions and broke a decoration piece worth two million won. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The air stilled, the room falling silent. Even the Twins didn't speak. Head spinning, body splayed on the floor, the second-year, _purely middle-class_ student ran over the accusations on and on in his head.

_Did he- did he just say two million wo-_

Namjoon's brain short-circuited. 

"Oh my god, did he just _faint_? He just fainted!?? Hobi, why did you-"

"Not my problem, hyung," Hoseok shrugged, as Seokjin turned to look at him scandalously, torn between screaming something crazy and tearing his hair out. "Money is money. Now he has to clear off his debt, any way he can. With _interest_."

"Wow, this is a first," Taehyung commented, throat strangely dry. "Jimin, how many times do you think Hobi-hyung went all Kill-mode like this?"

"Around three times, I think," Jimin counted off his fingers, hands disappearing under his sleeve. "That one time when a girl upturned a tea-table, that one time when Yoongi hyung got into trouble, and now this." He whistled, puffing his cheeks. "Wow Tae, do you think we're partly responsible for this?"

"I think we're _fully_ responsible," Taehyung shrugged, adjusting his tie. "Poor Namjoon-hyung, now he has to handle all the trouble."

"All of you are _devils_ ," Yoongi mutters, voice resigned, torn between the idea of consoling a traumatised Jungguk and sleeping the fuck into oblivion. Maybe they should cancel their club activities for today. "Hey you all, I'm going to bed. Wake me up when this fellow wakes up, I need to give him a prep talk for the initiation." With small steps he walks away from the scene, leaving behind the contemplative Twins ( _Idiots_ , both of them), the passive-aggressively bickering duo (seriously, they should be denounced of their President and Vice-President posts immediately), and a gawking Jungguk with a crestfallen look on his face, staring at the scene and probably rethinking all his past choices that led him to this (really, Yoongi couldn't help but sympathise).

And then there was Namjoon on the floor too, conveniently knocked out by shock and what Yoongi could only guess was sheer desperation. Poor guy. He didn't deserve this.

But it wasn't Yoongi's problem, anyway. He just needed his sleep.

  


Thus, long story (very long story) short: Kim Namjoon was a genius middle-class student of Bangtan High, only one of his kind in the school; and one fine day, when he lost his way and _accidentally_ broke a vase in the club room of the Bangtan Host Club (it was all the Twins' fault, he swears), he had to start his school year with a debt of _two million won_ on his head. After waking up from his stupor and facing his reality, it was unanimously decided (excluding the man in question) that if Namjoon joined the club, became a Host, and performed his duties impeccably (like helping the members with any errands, and gaining the heart of their customers) for the rest of the year, then he would be cleanly cleared off his debt. However strict he was with money, Hoseok turned out to be a ready appreciator of human effort- though his image was perpetually ruined in Namjoon's mind. Thus, reluctantly, and with a lot of curses at his uncanny misfortune, Kim Namjoon joined the Bangtan High School Host Club, the oddest and weirdest and craziest group of people he had ever met in the span of a half-an-hour lunch break.

And, he didn't find a place do any revision, after all.

The only consolation he could give himself in such strange, dire times was that at least the club President, Kim Seokjin, was a _normal human being_. Kind, beautiful, with calm eyes and a heart-breaking smile- he was the definition of charm, the embodiment of perfection. Namjoon didn't know people like him existed, but now he was glad they did.

Reflecting back to the things that would follow though, Namjoon would quite soon realise how utterly _wrong_ his perceptions had been. For the time being, he just needed to _survive_.

  



	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon is introduced to the Host Club, and the Host Club, to him. It is not a normal affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this took me quite a while to finish, but I hope the wait is worth it. Read on, everyone, to see what becomes of Namjoon and his new, strange company ;)))

  


"Okay, let's begin."

  


Yoongi's sleepy drawl brings us to one corner of the spacious Bangtan Host club room, five of its core members (plus a very confused, very distraught, borderline desperate Namjoon) sitting in a rough circle over an assorted variety of furniture, gleaming clean and polished as if just recently bought (in some remote vestiges of his memory, Namjoon remembers the doe-eyed youngster aggressively cleaning round the room, an effort that deserves such a flawless result). Each person had a remarkably different expression on their face, the air still hot with lingering arguments concerning _two million won debts_ and _astute accountants_ (read: Hoseok); they had been going at it for nearly _hours_ , and by now, even Namjoon knew there could be no further debate about it.

The vase was broken, the debt had to be cleared. He didn't mean to break it, it hadn't been his fault, but they _had_ been his own fucking legs.

Since there was no way he could pay off that ludicrous amount in cash ( _I mean, excuse you, I can't even buy a proper uniform, you want my parents to murder me??_ ), the only option that remained was for him to work for it. Become a member, transform into a Host; do whatever the fuck they wanted him to do, pray to the Heavens that he passed high school, and uh, not get killed? Yes, to not succumb to the absolute evil of his company- that was on top of his list.

"Okay, Kim Namjoon, our unfortunate intruder," Yoongi speaks, slowly, body splayed on the couch and a hand over his eyes, as if the mere action of talking was too taxing for him. "Since all debates are over- are you in proper, stable state, in firm hold of your consciousness, to proceed with the finer aspects of your initiation?"

"I highly doubt that," Namjoon sighed, face buried in his hands, glasses sitting delicately on the wooden table placed in the centre. The mess of dark hair over his head distantly reminded one of a running cockatiel, or perhaps (in Taehyung's hyperactive imagination), a cluster of tiny, spiked sea cucumbers. Yoongi lets out a small noise, somewhere between sympathy and a snort; then continues with his speech anyways.

"So, first tings first," he says, trying hard not to fall asleep. "If you want to join the Host Club, you need to know what we actually _do_."

"I don't think I want to join the Host Club," Namjoon remarks petulantly, voice strangled. "Can't I just _go_?"

"Okay, look here," as if exasperated, Hoseok, sitting cross-legged on a chair beside Yoongi's couch, leans forward with the most understanding arch of brows. "As soon as your debt is cleared, you'll be free to go." The concerned frown on his lips _almost_ makes Namjoon feel better, but the memory of his evil alter-ego has yet to leave his memory. "I know it's hard, but money is money, you know? You're a genius, right? If you try hard, you can easily balance the club activities with everything else."

"Trust me kid, that's all we do," Yoongi adds, turning in his couch, a look of contemplation on his face. "Even _now_ I don't know why I joined, but it's not all that bad. Not if you can get used to it."

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. There was no arguing with these guys, he was _screwed_. "Okay," he says, picking up his glasses and putting them on, huffing, resigned to his fate. " _Okay_. To become a Host, I need to know about the Host Club. Do enlighten me."

( _"Hey, where is Jin-hyung?"_ Rosy-cheeked and curious, Taehyung shifts on the couch beside Hoseok's, adjusting his bandanna and furtively looking around. _"He's our President- shouldn't he be present during the official initiation?"_

 _"He said he wasn't his handsome best yet,"_ snuggling like a baby under his friend's left arm, Jimin lay half in and half out of the seat, small body held primly within Taehyung's large arms. _"Damn Tae, I feel so bad for him,"_ he whispered petulantly, not quiet enough. Namjoon deliberately tried to drown out their conversation. _"Seriously, if you didn't run after his socks, this would've never happened."_

 _"We weren't the ones who broke that vase, Chim,"_ Taehyung snipped, affectionately cradling Jimin's head. _"Namjoon-hyung was the one who tripped over nothing and crash-landed on it."_ He kept looking around the empty club room, in search for their President who had gone quite invisible since Namjoon woke up. _"Really though, where is he? How do we introduce ourselves with our only leader missing?"_

_"Tae, do you think we should apologise?"_

_"Yeah, we should go and find him."_

_"No Tae, not Seokjin-hyung. I mean-"_

_"I don't mean Namjoon-hyung too,"_ Taehyung argued, lost in his own world. He didn't even look like he was doing it on purpose, which was more troubling. _"Come on, let's go get him-"_

 _"Taehyung, listen to me!"_ Jimin snapped, pulling hard at his friend's straw-dyed hair. _"Seriously, you have the attention span of a baby! Bad baby! Bad Taetae!"_

_"Chim, why're you mad??"_ Taehyung rubs his hair, staring at Jimin as if affronted. _"I didn't do anything, it's Jin-hyung who's missing-"_

_"Gosh, you're still not listening, are you-"_ )

"Okay, break it up, you two," Yoongi interjected, sighing tiredly. "Seriously, if you wanna have a private conversation, keep it _down_." He slung a hand over his eyes, completely spent. "I can't do this anymore. Hobi, cover for me."

"As you wish," Hoseok nodded amicably, throwing a bright, heart-shaped smile in Namjoon's direction. "In the Host Club, we mainly concentrate on _customer service_. Whoever comes in through that door is our client, our guest, and we treat them most delicately, give them whatever they want to have a good time. It usually begins with us decorating the room, creating new themes, dressing up. Rose petals are a must. Whenever one enters, they should be greeted with a _storm_ of petals-"

"Is that what you were trying to do?" Namjoon looks curiously at Jimin, who shrinks under the gaze, embarrassed. "Throwing flowers at my face, that's a greeting? You guys are _weird_."

"Throwing _petals_ , not flowers," Hoseok delicately corrected, palms flat over the table. "What Jimin did was a mistake, he has less experience." Straightening, he points at the tall, doe-eyed guy sitting beside Namjoon's couch, forever silent. "Our usual petal-thrower is mostly Jungguk, when he's not busy cleaning _everything_ around the club." As Namjoon turns to stare at him, the boy sinks in his seat, cheeks adorably pink. "He's our youngest, a first year. He's half the reason this place doesn't turn into a dumpster by the end of the month, he's _obsessed_ with cleaning things."

"I figured," Namjoon mutters, eyes returning to Hoseok's. Primly, he clasps his hands together, trying (and probably failing) to imitate the other's flawless sitting posture. "So, you entertain the guests... who are the students of this school. How exactly do you do that?"

"We make conversation, keep them engaged, with enjoyable food, activities, or perhaps _flirtations_." At Namjoon's arched brows and sceptical stare, Hoseok aggressively shakes his head, leaning forward. "No, wait. We may be Hosts, but again, might I remind you that we're not _escorts_. No 18+ activities allowed, you only have to charm our customers and hold their interest. Anything to make them come back, honestly." With a flourish of his hand, he takes out a notebook from his pocket- this one with a bright, olive green cover- flipping distractedly through the pages until he finds what he was looking for.

"We have _roles_ for this thing, you know?" he says, chewing on his pen, which Namjoon realises is not a very _classy_ hobby to entertain. Huh. "During our activities, we all stick to the roles we have chosen for ourselves. Or, in some cases, have received," he hazards a snide glance at Yoongi, who only rolls over and scoffs at the words. "Most of our customers know our roles, and they choose their Hosts according to their preference. Sometimes they may want to change, but each of us at least have six-seven regular ones by now."

As if on cue, Taehyung leans forward, tugging at Jimin's shirt and smiling brightly at Namjoon, like he hadn't almost ruined the entirety of his high school academic career only minutes ago. "Take me and Jimin, for example," he says, as Jimin straightens and gives him a soft, pretty smile of his own. "We are the _'Twins'_ , even though we're not brothers or related by blood, and look nothing similar. Jin-hyung gave us a lot of roles to chose from when we joined, but we chose this one because we didn't want to be separated."

As Namjoon ponders as to why _anyone_ would willingly let themselves join such a _cult_ , Jimin wraps a hand around Taehyung's neck, candy-pink hair soft and ruffled. "We are best friends, you know?" he chirrups cheerfully, as if Namjoon hadn't already guessed. "We both were lonely in our first year, and only had each other for company. We can always guess what the other is thinking, or is going to do- like telepathy! Surprisingly, our clients love that about us. They like the _'Forbidden Brotherly Love'_ concept, so we just stay together and act however we want. It's fun."

" _'Forbidden Brotherly Love'?_ Is that a thing?" Namjoon curiously looks around, as Jungguk gives him a sympathetic nod. When he's met with similar blank stares, he concludes: "Wow, girls are weird."

"Can't argue with _that_ ," Hoseok shrugs, the same time when Yoongi goes, "It's kind of exclusive here." Crossing his arms, puffing his chest, the red-haired guy straightens, brings that cursed grey notebook out of his pocket again. "As for me, I am the _'Happy and Cheerful, All-Around Cool Guy'_ of the Club. I'm happy, optimistic, cheerful, and can brighten your day with a single smile." He grins wider for confirmation, radiating literal sunshine, waving the notebook in Namjoon's face. "I'm the Vice-President, because Yoongi-hyung is too lazy for the job, and I generally keep a record of our costs and accounts. I'm good at handling money, and I keep a track of all our profits and losses that keep this club going. Money is important, you know?"

 _I gathered that too,_ Namjoon thinks, nodding tentatively. He shoots a careful glance at the tiny senior sprawled on the couch, mint-green hair spread like a curtain over crimson cushions. "Um, and what about Yoongi-hyung?" he asks, tilting his head. "Is he the cold, _'tsundere'_ one of the group?"

"Uh, _realistically_ he is," Hoseok shrugs, scrunching his nose, glancing beside himself. "Yoongi-hyung, would you like to introduce your role?"

"Like _hell_ ," Yoongi answers, eyes screwed shut. "Tell him whatever you want, I ain't pronouncing that shit with my own fucking mouth."

When Namjoon stares at the duo confusedly (one who refused to open his eyes and face the world for more than five minutes, and another who was contemplating whether risking his life for a triviality like Namjoon would truly be worth it), Taehyung conspiratorially leans closer, fixing his bandanna and tugging urgently at Namjoon's ear. When Namjoon reflexively leans in, the younger stares him dead in the eyes, very audibly whispering:

"Don't tell him I said it, but he's the _'Cute and Sweet'_ Host of the club. Most _adorable_ , ever."

The words elicit a series of grimaces and cringes around the table, as Yoongi lets out a long-suffering groan and turns his back on Namjoon, muttering something ominously about _idiotic friends_ and _stupid clients_ and _damn you Jin-hyung, this stopped being funny two years ago_. Hoseok runs a hand through his crimson locks, trying and failing to hold back a sigh, words completely lost on him.

"What?- How come-" Namjoon stammers, very much confused. "How come _he_ gets to be the _cute_ one, when he- he isn't even-"

As Jimin whispers something into Taehyung's ears that make the guy quake with silent laughter, a finger softly pokes Namjoon at the elbow. Glancing beside, Namjoon realises it's Jungguk.

"It's a long story," he says, waving in Yoongi's general direction, the only one kind enough to even bother for an explanation. Namjoon realises that despite his shy, quiet demeanour, the boy's voice was strong and firm, large doe-eyes and inky black hair framing a cute but undoubtedly handsome face. He scratches his neck when Namjoon scrutinises him, eyes nervous; but he doesn't fall quiet, instead continuing: "Yoongi-hyung was actually the second member of this club, after Seokjin-hyung. He definitely doesn't act like what his role implies, but," he glances once at the defeated man on the couch, lips curving. "He has, uh.. He has what Jin-hyung likes to call _delicate features_ , _a cute smile_ and overall short height, so, he somehow bestowed that role to him? I don't know how he managed to convince hyung, but-"

"It was blackmail," Yoongi claims petulantly, still grumbling. "It was pure blackmail, best friend _my ass-_ "

"-so yeah, that's how it came to be," Jungguk shrugs, casually comfortable. Staring for a beat at Namjoon, he blinks; then says: "By the way, my role is the _'Strong, Silent'_ type." He grins, face splitting into a wide smile, incredibly cute, adorable bunny teeth charming the heck out of the senior. "Out of all the members, I like my role the best. I am not very good at talking with strangers, so Jin-hyung decided that I could get away without talking much, too."

"Then how do you entertain your clients?" Namjoon asks, curiously.

"I don't," Jungguk says, frowning a little. "I don't even know why I get customers. I thought I'd just stand in one corner and do nothing, but it turns out girls like it when I lift a table or unhinge the couches to clean them properly."

" _Show-off_ ," Jimin scowls, shooting their youngest a petulant glare. "You're this huge bundle of brute strength, of course girls would like you more."

"Chimmy, don't say that," Taehyung playfully slaps a hand over Jimin's forehead, as Jungguk shoots him a deliberate, self-satisfied grin. Namjoon stares at the exchange in wonder, realising that the quietest of the group might not be very shy, after all.

But, one person was still missing. Namjoon couldn't get him out of his head.

"And, uh, what about your President? What role does he play?"

Instantly, everyone stiffens; Taehyung and Jimin sit up straighter in their seat, as Jungguk casts a careful glance around. Hoseok tucks his pen under his chin and looks heavenwards, as if in deep thought, while in an unusual show of strength, Yoongi sits up on the couch and gifts him a venomous glare. For a moment, there is silence; then very suddenly, five excited voices of varying volumes and concern burst forth in description, going something like:

"You see, he _is_ our President, but you mustn't trust him with _some things_ -"

"He's pretty good at handling _money_ , but everything else is, uh-"

"Girls _love_ him," Jimin says, eyes wide. "But to this day, we don't know _just why_ -"

"He's a secret dictator, that's what he is," Yoongi grumbles, in all seriousness frustrated. "Blackmailing me to reveal my entire Kunamon Collection, which he later _did_ -"

"He cooks really well though. Like, _amazing_. Better than all our chefs back home, he's the best-"

"Okay. Okay, wait," Namjoon scrambles in his seat, flailing his arms to control this sudden influx of information. "Wait. I get that he might be, uh, a bit _unique_ , but-"

"He's batshit crazy," Yoongi says.

"- _But_ , what kind of a Host is he?"

The room falls silent again. And this time, when Hoseok tentatively attempts to speak, there is a slam of a door somewhere in the room. At one corner, the door to what Namjoon only guesses must be the dressing room bursts open from the inside, a loud, extremely loud, extremely confident voice announcing:

"ALL RIGHT, DO I HEAR SOMEONE REMEMBERING ME?"

"Speak of the Devil," Yoongi mutters, and that's all the warning Namjoon gets before the club President is onto them, the entire, huge, magnanimous presence of _Kim Seokjin_ hitting him squarely in the face (in hindsight, by the unusually concerning reactions of the members, he should've seen it coming).

"INITIATING OUR NEW MEMBER, ARE WE?" The tall, handsome guy chirrups, smiling down at Namjoon in a way that sends his heartbeat spiking. Dressed elegantly in an embroidered navy suit and tailored pants, a silver earring glinting in one ear, blonde hair carefully styled with a bit of kohl lining his eyes, Seokjin looked _stunning_. He looked more like a foreign Prince than a weary high school senior, emanating a sweet, floral fragrance; and Namjoon simultaneously wonders that 1) was it even legal to be this beautiful? 2) how come he dressed up in all that suit and make-up in so little time? and 3) despite his angelic, God-like appearance, was it really _necessary_ to speak _so loudly_ , because Namjoon's ears were dangerously close to _bursting_.

Defying every logic of common sense and acoustics, Seokjin places a hand on his hips and looks around, loudly going: "SO, DID YOU GUYS MISS ME?"

"Your ears must be ringing," Yoongi deadpans, a flat expression on his face. Curiously, Namjoon notices him sneak that white earplug out of his pocket, pushing it into his left ear again. _Understandable_. "In answer to your question, yes, we _were_ in the middle of initiating another member. Seriously, school's _over_ (apparently, Namjoon had been unconscious for a bit longer than he had imagined)- why're you even dressed up like that?"

"Yoongi, it's a _special occasion_ ," voice blessedly softer, the President runs a hand through his locks, ruffling them charmingly, stylishly twirling around. The frills swish around his sleeves, black shoes shining; Namjoon was still in awe of his looks, but perhaps the flamboyancy could've been toned down a little. "We have a new member among us, of course we should be in our best attire." Throwing a wink at Namjoon (which honestly is a direct attack to his well-being), he glides around the couch and comes to sit beside Jungguk, both of them squishing into the tiny love-seat. Smiling satisfactorily, glancing around the circle, he says: "So, what were you guys talking about? Did you finish with all the introductions?"

"We were just introducing you," Hoseok shrugs, smiling tight-lipped. He looked like he was _done_ with his company. "But since you're here now, I guess you could do it yourself."

"You shouldn't have gone away in the first place, hyung," Taehyung leans forward, as Jimin nods. "All the club members must be present during the initiation- it's our _rule_."

Jimin keeps nodding, throughout Taehyung's words, but then suddenly stops. As if just remembering, he twists his neck to remark, "Wait, _you_ weren't there when Jungguk was initiated, too." Brows furrowed deeply, he pouts as Taehyung ungracefully splutters. "I don't think _you_ are in any position to inform Jin-hyung about the _rules_ , you know? You missed out on an initiation too."

"Chim, we're _friends_ ," Taehyung grits out, cheeks as red as his bandanna. "Surely you know when to support your friends and when not?"

"Maybe I would start doing that when you start paying _attention_ to me."

"Jimin, it was _only one time_ -"

"It wasn't only _one time_ , and you know it-"

"You two don't understand the meaning of an initiation, do you?" Yoongi shoots them a narrowed glare, effectively breaking the banter. "Seriously, are brothers even supposed to argue this much? You people are so _annoying_."

"We're _not_ brothers," the Twins chorus, as if on autopilot; then, turning to look at each other, they burst into a tiny fit of giggles.

"Okay, I'm done. Where the hell can I sign the resignation form?"

"Stop trying to resign every five days, Yoongi," Seokjin rolls his eyes, the same time Namjoon goes, "Wait, you guys have _rules_?" Sensing his confusion, Hoseok waves a hand, replying, "Don't worry, you'll know them soon enough."

"We kind of keep changing the rules, you know?" Jungguk adds, shrugging. "Sometimes, even we get confused what is and what isn't."

"That only makes it easier to make our own rules though," Taehyung grins, eyes glinting. "It's _really_ fun." Namjoon gulps, reminding himself to strictly keep that information in mind.

"AHEM," the beautiful man beside Namjoon coughs, demanding attention, and at once, peace is restored again. An irked indent forming in his brows, Seokjin takes in a deep breath to calm himself down (again, understandable. Who could _ever_ retain their peace of mind in such disruptive, disarming company?). "Okay, enough of this," he says, and there's a bite in his tone that rivals the horrifying cold smile on his lips. _Goddamnit_ , everyone here was suffering from alter-egos. "If my _esteemed_ , _generous_ members would allow, I would gladly take this chance to formally introduce myself."

( _"We already kinda did though,"_ Taehyung murmurs in Jimin's ear, who nods. _"He just needs to state who he is, and then we'll be done."_ )

"Kim Namjoon, the genius middle-class student," Namjoon slowly registers the nickname, as Seokjin crosses his legs and elegantly extends a hand towards him. A hand, he notices, that clasps a large, pure-white rose within delicate fingers. "My name is Kim Seokjin, official founder and President of the Bangtan High School Host Club. The role I bestowed upon myself, while adhering to traditions, was that of _'The Prince'_. A living embodiment of charm, elegance and beauty, I fear I'm the only one here who could uphold the responsibilities of this title- the likes of which I've been following through for the past two years already."

Seokjin clutches a hand to his chest, eyes dreamy, lips curved, as Namjoon slowly connects the dots, gaping. Even though he looks ethereal, everyone around cringes at the words, Yoongi the hardest of all. "Yes, I know I'm handsome, you can say it," the second-year blushes furiously as Seokjin leans forward, tucking a hand under his chin. "I charm our clients with my sheer beauty and presence, but if you want, I could charm you too."

Yoongi chooses this exact moment to gag, which Namjoon gratefully holds onto as he backs away from the touch, mind reeling, coming face to face with a shocking, dawning reality. 

_Holy shit, this couldn't be happening-_

"Oh, here we go again," Taehyung whispers, again much too loudly. "Looks like he's finally realising it."

Kim Seokjin was, quite impossibly, the _craziest_ person in the room, all things considered. This was _not_ what he had expected.

(Even if that wasn't completely true, Namjoon is like 100% sure Seokjin was by no means _normal_. How utterly _unfortunate_.)

"Jin-hyung, stop playing around. You're scaring him."

"Aww, I just wanted to tease him," Seokjin pouts, still deadly. "He looks too easy to fluster, honestly."

"There's no point in flustering our own members, hyung," Hoseok sighs, shaking his head. He glances over at Namjoon, intuitive, realising he still wasn't quite over the shock. "Hey, you okay there? Did you get what he said?"

"Um, uh- yes," Namjoon stammers, wondering if this is what betrayal felt like. How the hell could the girls like, or even _tolerate_ a person so obviously narcissist and vain? And why the hell was _he_ still flustered? Seokjin pays no mind to his awkwardness though, shooting him a wide smile, and Namjoon realises that such soaring beauty must be in vain, as well. 

"According to history, our great forefathers had founded this club yeas ago," the President says, as Taehyung indiscreetly stifles a yawn, rubbing his eyes. "I believe this school wasn't called _Bangtan_ then, and had a Japanese branch or something.." he places a hand on his chin, thinking. "Well, anyways, it's like a tradition. The leader should be the most charming. We have a rich history of stellar social service, and when you're being a part of it, you need to know your responsibilities as well. One single mistake, and it could be a stigma upon the whole club."

Namjoon nods, wondering if such stigmas added to the amount of his debt or not. He really hoped they didn't. "Okay," he says, pushing the glasses up on his nose. "Okay, I understand. So do I like, get a role or something too?"

"We usually decide on the roles after our first Hosting session," Taehyung says, brows arched high. "Chim and I were an exception. In general cases, we look at how each person interacts with the clients, entertains them, and only then do we choose a role suitable for them."

"Consider me an exception too," Yoongi raises a hand, looking more grumpy than angered. "No one thought of that when _I_ was initiated- it's always the older ones who're unfairly judged."

"It's been two years, Yoongi," Seokjin says, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've developed into a _beautiful_ Host, learn to embrace it."

"Not that shit, I swear," the mint-haired guy curses, looking heavenward, collapsing onto his pillow again. "So, anyways. Namjoon. Don't worry, we'll just groom you up a bit, fix your appearance, and leave everything else to destiny." He smirks a little when Namjoon gulps, bestowing him a little patting motion in the air. "Hey, don't worry. I'll personally see that my unfair treatment isn't repeated on you. We'll judge you fair and square."

_Maybe that will make them realise how utterly useless I'll be,_ Namjoon thinks, sardonic. _I totally suck at flirting, I'll never become a Host._

As if thinking along the same lines, Jimin leans forward, blowing the hair out of his eyes. "But, what if Namjoon-hyung _sucks_ at it?" He shoots him an apologetic glance, continuing, "You know, some people are, uh.. just not cut out for it? What if he has no talent in being a Host?"

"Well, he could become our errand boy then," Seokjin remarks flippantly, hair ruffling like a halo. "He might suck at talking to girls, but he can do all the odd jobs around the club. Shopping, cleaning, Danger Management, those kinds of things."

"That's not the friendliest way to go about it," Hoseok says. "But yeah, money is money. We'll do what we need to."

_Okay, abort mission. Abort mission. These people are impossible._

Seokjin claps his hands sharply, almost elbowing Jungguk in the stomach. "Now that _that_ has been taken care of," he announces, "it's time we ask the most important of questions."

"Oh hyung, please _don't_ ," even Hoseok seems tired at this point, smiles vanishing. "You can clearly _see_ he's a- okay nevermind, do whatever you want-"

"You know, I never realised why that question was important," Taehyung mutters, as Yoongi stares up at the ceiling. "I mean, isn't it _obvious_?"

Even Jungguk, who seemed to speak only when required, tugged pleadingly at Seokjin's sleeves, eyes wide. "Please hyung," he says, biting his lip. "I remember zoning out when you asked that to _me_ , please don't make Namjoon-hyung go through it."

"Ah, but it's very _important_ ," Seokjin swats away the complaints, running a hand through Jungguk's locks as he turns to look at him. "Namjoon, what I ask next, you have to promise to answer it with absolute honesty. Okay?"

Gulping, he nods. "Okay." Was it bad that he wanted to know exactly what this question was that everyone had such unique reactions against?

"Okay," Seokjin clasps his hand, twirling the rose. Staring at him dead in the eye, focus sharp, he says: "So, tell me this: are you _really_ a guy?"

Namjoon blinks.

"Uh... What?"

"Don't look so shocked," Seokjin waves a hand, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm asking, are you 100% sure you're a boy, a male, or, oh I dunno- not actually a _girl_ in disguise?"

Namjoon narrows his eyes, now suspicious as well. "Why do you ask?"

"Initiation purposes," Seokjin simply states, offering no other explanation. "So, what's your answer?"

"For starters, I have no doubt that I'm _not_ a girl in disguise. But really, do you know just how _absurd_ you sound-"

"It's a necessary requirement!" Seokjin shakes his head, huffing aggressively. "It's imperative that I ask this to every new member, to prevent History from repeating itself-"

"Could you just cut out the drama and answer straight?"

"Can you just accept what you're told without an argument?"

They stop, stare each other down, breathing heavily. The rest of the club stares at them with round, wide eyes, not believing the scene unfolding in front of them.

_Holy shit, did a newcomer just argue with the charming likes of our charming President? A newcomer??_

Followed by a collective thought like:

_Okay, we absolutely need this guy in the team._

"Okay, you're in," Hoseok blurts out, shocked and awed and positively wonder-struck. "I never thought I'd see this happening someday, but-" he shakes his head, shoulders relieved. "Nevermind, we desperately need someone normal in this group. You're in."

"Agreed," Yoongi nods, staring at him with something akin to pride in his eyes. "Finally a person I would be glad to call a member. You're in."

"Huh?" Namjoon blinks. If he hadn't argued like that, would he not have been initiated?

 _Damn_ , he shouldn't have argued.

( _"Yoongi, you don't like me as a member, too?"_ Jimin pouts, looking at the older with glistening puppy-dog eyes. _"I thought you liked me enough to-"_

 _"As a person, you're stellar,"_ Yoongi replies, blushing furiously. _"As a club member though, that's debatable."_ )

"Why do you ask that though?" Namjoon asks, shooting Seokjin a quizzed glare. "It's as if you're, you're discriminating or something. Clearly you can see I'm a boy, but even if I'm not, what exactly does it matter to you if I-"

"I'm just a sensible human being, you know? One who learns from others' mistakes," Seokjin sighs, uncrossing his hands. "I apologise if I offended you, but I was just being _cautious_. You see, years ago, _something_ happened to our founders." He shudders, as if the mere thought made him terrified. "Something crazy, something impossible. There was this new member, and there was a case of _simultaneous_ mistaken identity and gender. It caused a shitload of problems for their legendary leader, of which I absolutely do not want a repeat of."

"The new member was a girl?" Namjoon arches his eyebrows. "Well, what did she do? Take over the Leader's position?"

"No, not really. It was actually a very cute story," Taehyung smiles, cupping his cheeks. "The Leader fell in love with her."

"And she for him," Jimin sing-songs, eyes crinkling.

"And _that's_ a very big problem," Seokjin concludes, slapping a hand on the table, tone leaving no room for arguments. "No distractions in front of responsibilities. Whatever happens, we do not need _that_ problem in this club anytime soon, hence the precautionary questions." He looks at Namjoon with half a frown, but then smiles softly (Namjoon's heart still skips a beat, that traitor). "It's okay though, you're in. I'm sorry if your initiation wasn't very conventional but, welcome to the Host Club."

As if that was the final call, all six members of this strange club turn to look at him one by one, faces a varying mix of happiness and exhaustion and excitement, eliciting something _warm_ inside Namjoon he couldn't fathom the origin of. He looks one by one at each of them- at the silly, pretty grins pasted on the Twins' face, at the tired but content smile on Hobi's; at the way Yoongi accepted him just with his gaze, at Jungguk's wide, doe-eyed welcome, and Seokjin's utterly disarming smile- he glances at all of them, one by one, and suddenly, this place doesn't feel all that bad to him.

Maybe, just maybe, he could somewhat enjoy this, after all.

As if waiting for this exact moment, Taehyung jumps up from his seat and flings himself at Namjoon, hands coming to cling around his neck. "Okay, now that _that's_ over," the grin on his face makes Namjoon take back every single good thought he'd had about him, "I think it's time for A DRESS-UP."

"YESSS," Jimin jumps out of the seat as well, hugging his friend from the back. "We sat through this entire initiation, NOW HE'S OURS."

"Remember, be _gentle_ ," Hoseok chides them softly as suddenly, Namjoon finds himself being dragged alarmingly into the dressing room, entirely against his consent. "Please see to his clothes, do something with his glasses, and be _delicate_ with his hair. We don't want a 'Yoongi-hyung' Episode again."

"What's a 'Yoongi-hyung' Episode?" Jungguk pipes up, at the same time Namjoon manages to valiantly scream, "WHAT THE FUCK- WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO-ummph!" Seokjin lets out a fragile sigh, collapsing into the seat and onto Jungguk's shoulders, as Yoongi gruffly replies, "Some Incidents should never be discussed twice, kid. Forget it."

  


It's needless to say that, by the time the Twin's finish giving him a complete, head-to-toe _makeover_ , Namjoon doesn't know what life is anymore. All he knows is that there are at least thirty colours of _contact lenses_ in the world, frills and delicate chokers are definitely _not_ his style, his round, trademark glasses were definitely a stigma in the fashion world, and _maybe_ the bleached blonde shade on his hair might not be too bad of a statement. When he emerges out of the dressing room, haggard and breathless and ruefully tired, he doesn't know what life is, doesn't remember his own name, but what he _does_ know is that if he kept letting himself be dragged around on other young people's whims, surviving this whole thing was going to be a difficult task indeed.

(He does feel a _tiny_ bit better when the all club members stare at him with abject wonder, the pride of a dressers' shining in the Twins' eyes; but then again, that was not the point he was originally going for.)

God, he just wanted to go back _home_.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still confused, here is the list of the members according to the original Ouran characters:
> 
> Kim Seokjin as Suoh Tamaki  
> Min Yoongi as Honey/Hani  
> Jung Hoseok as Kyouya  
> Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung as The Twins (Hikaru and Kaoru)  
> Jeon Jungguk as Morinosuke  
> and Kim Namjoon as our very own Haruhi Fujioka. Will their history indeed repeat itself? Let's see :))
> 
> (Also, if anyone would like to see more of chaotic BTS with comedy and romance, you can go check out my other story, 'Bangtan Connect'! I posted it just recently, and I would love it if anyone gave that a try.. It's _kinda_ good, I promise!):
> 
> If you liked this chapter, feel free to share your thoughts and leave a comment, they really inspire me to write more and more! Till then, stay safe, stay healthy, and I hope everyone has a great day/night! :)))

**Author's Note:**

> ... I wholeheartedly sympathise with Namjoon in the story, but if he thinks Seokjin, being the President of this club, is just a _normal human being_ , he has some shocking surprises waiting for him.. ;))
> 
> Well, I hope that was a satisfactory read! It's the first time I'm going for comedy, and I don't know if I did good or not. I know I loved writing the Twins :DD The roles of the other club members will be revealed soon. Updates will be sporadic, but I'll try my best! Please feel free to leave a kudos or comment down below, feedbacks and remarks always motivate me so much to write more and more!
> 
> Please stay safe, everyone! Till next time, I hope you all have a great day/night! Bye bye! :))


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